Take Your Own Way
by Crystal Rose of Pollux
Summary: Still the newcomer of the TARDIS crew, Jamie can't help but wander and wonder. Four times Jamie McCrimmon wandered off, and one time he didn't.


_Notes: The characters aren't mine, and the story is! This is my first full-fledged foray into the fandom, and will hopefully not be the last. I simply adore the dynamic between the Second Doctor and Jamie, and so I wrote these pieces as a bit of a character study to practice writing for them. The pieces are meant to take place early on, after Jamie joined the team_.

* * *

The first time Jamie wandered off was on one quiet night aboard the TARDIS, not too long after the Doctor took him in. The idea of numerous corridors and rooms—seemingly endless—all fitting into one box had piqued the young Scot's curiosity.

Wide awake, Jamie slipped out of the room that had been assigned to him, traversing the corridors as question after question raced through his head. Where had the Doctor acquired such a craft? How far did the corridors go? Where did they lead? What was hidden in the various rooms?

He followed the maze of corridors, coming across locked doors everywhere he went. Frustrated, he began to realize that he could very well be down here for the rest of the night trying to make his way into one of the rooms.

It was only when he had turned around to go back that he realized how foolish he had been not to keep track of which corridors he had taken. There was no sure way of knowing how to make it back to his room.

The Scot ran a hand through his hair as he pondered his dilemma, and it soon became clear that trial and error would be the only way to find the way back. With any luck, he'd manage to make it to his room before morning to allow him a little bit of sleep.

Sighing to himself, Jamie headed down the current corridor in the direction he had arrived; he hadn't taken too many turns—perhaps it wouldn't be as difficult as it seemed. However, those sentiments soon changed as he saw a metal shutter descend in front of him, blocking the way forward.

The Scot tried to budge the shutter, but it didn't move. Nervous, he backed away, slowly.

The creaking sound of another shutter descending made him turn. This time, he ran forward, diving into an ungainly somersault to make it under the shutter just before it fully reached the ground.

Jamie got to his feet again, now running as fast as he could down the corridor. Mechanical whirring told him that more shutters were descending, one after the other. He pushed himself to run faster, dreading the thought of being caught in the middle.

The corridor soon diverged into two more—one to the left, and one to the right. At this point, Jamie had long since forgotten how far he was from his room, there simply wasn't any time to figure it out; the closing shutters were rapidly approaching from behind.

He ran to the right; a few more shutters prevented any second thoughts from being acted upon. As he fled, he looked behind him, trying to gauge how far ahead of the shutters he was.

He soon met with a world of pain as he ran smack into a wall; knocked to the ground, the Scot could only stare in horror at the dead end.

The last of the shutters descended behind him, and Jamie knew that his situation was absolutely hopeless. Despite that, he hammered on the shutter with his fists and called for help, hoping that, by some miracle, either the Doctor, Polly, or Ben could hear him.

He soon lost all track of time. He had no idea as to how long he had been shouting, only knowing that his voice had become hoarse from it. Resigning himself to the fact that he had escaped death at Culloden only to die here, lost in the depths of some otherworldly box, Jamie sunk to the floor.

Already, he was feeling lightheaded; very little air could get past the shutters, and it had become unpleasantly stuffy. He shut his eyes, trying to clear his head, and he didn't even hear the shutter reopen.

He did, however, feel the hand gripping his arm and pulling him to his feet. Opening his eyes, his vision slightly out of focus, he could just barely discern the Doctor leading him silently down the corridor. Some of the shutters had been raised, revealing a clear path back to the console room. Ben and Polly were there; Polly sighed in relief to see them, and she quickly drew the Scot into a hug.

"Polly, see to it that he doesn't wander off again."

Both Polly and Jamie looked back at the Doctor in surprise; there was a definite edge to his voice and a stern expression in his eyes.

"Doctor…" Jamie said, quietly. "I… I'm sorry…"

The Gallifreyan gave the Scot a judgmental look, but then his expression softened.

"I believe you are. However, I am still certain that you'll find other opportunities to wander off. Do _try_ to keep those to a minimum." He placed a hand on Jamie's shoulder for a moment. "Off you go, then—back to your room."

"…You're letting me stay?"

"Well, if you'd rather leave after what you just went through—"

"It takes more'n that to make a McCrimmon retreat!" Jamie retorted, indignantly.

"Yeah, it takes a Redcoat," Ben intoned, prompting Jamie to glare at him.

"_Ben_!" Polly chided. "Jamie, you pay him no mind; he's just upset at having his sleep interrupted."

"Yes, I do believe that all three of you should try and salvage whatever sleep you can get," the Doctor said, shooing them in the direction of their rooms.

Ben was only too glad to leave; Polly gave Jamie a look, silently inquiring if he was going to be okay. After the Scot nodded in reassurance, she returned to her room.

Jamie hesitated before returning; he glanced back at the Doctor.

"Thank ye," he said, quietly.

"It's quite alright," the Doctor assured him. As the Scot turned to leave, an idea came to him. "Jamie?"

"Aye?"

"Remind me to give you a proper tour of this place sometime; at least you'll know _where_ you can wander."

Jamie managed a lopsided smile and nodded.

* * *

The second time Jamie wandered off was during a stopover at a surprisingly Earth-like planet. Polly had mentioned to the Doctor that, after their adventure in Atlantis, they all deserved a nice holiday somewhere—preferably somewhere exotic and exciting, but on Earth. The Doctor was quite receptive to the idea; however, their destination was not at all where he intended.

"This was _supposed_ to be Casablanca," he muttered, as he started going over the TARDIS's navigation settings.

"I wasn't expecting it to look like the film," Ben said, wryly, as he opened the TARDIS's doors. "But I wasn't expecting it to look like this, either."

"Are you trying to be funny?" the Doctor asked. The last thing he needed was commentary. "Oh, my giddy aunt—I've been off-course before, but _never_ this far!"

"Are we in trouble?" Polly asked.

"I shouldn't think so," he replied. "Though it's certainly frustrating. Now… I must have complete silence! With any luck, I'll have the navigation settings fixed in a few minutes…"

Jamie didn't seem to mind the unplanned stop. Taking a peek outside, he felt a twinge of excitement upon seeing that they had landed upon a moor—not unlike the ones he knew from back home.

He slipped outside, smiling as he heard the familiar sounds of the damp ground beneath his feet. A mist was rising from the ground all around him, and, as he shut his eyes, even the smell of the moor seemed to call of home.

"Jamie!"

He gave a start upon hearing Polly's stern tone as she exited the TARDIS.

"I thought the Doctor told you not to wander off."

"I di'n go far!"

"Maybe not, but he put me in charge of you; so if you wander off, that means I get blamed for it!"

"Sorry," Jamie said. "But look at the moor!"

"Yes, I know," she replied, wrinkling her nose at the mud on her shoes. "It's going to be staying with me for a while…"

"It's just like the moors back in Scotland," he sighed. "The more I see this, the more I wonder if I made the right choice."

"You're missing home already?" Polly asked.

"Aye, maybe a li'l bit," Jamie said, thoughtfully. "They're all probably wondering what happened to me. I'm wondering what happened to them."

"If you're having second thoughts… I'm sure the Doctor will take you back home if you ask him."

"Should I?"

"Well…" Polly sighed. "For what it's worth, I'd miss you. And you would be on the run again, and I don't think anyone would want to see you get caught. Furthermore, I think the Doctor's taken a liking to you; he wouldn't want you to leave, either."

Jamie arched an eyebrow.

"After wandering aboot the TARDIS, I was surprised he di'n banish me then and there…"

"You didn't see the look on his face when we found out you'd gone missing," Polly said. "You really gave him a scare."

Jamie looked a bit incredulous. Why that clownish, otherworldly man would worry about him was a mystery.

"It's true, Mate," Ben added, joining them. "Found it necessary to wake all of us up to tell us that you were gone. What'd you go wandering off for, anyway?"

"I ne'er seen a thing like that before!" Jamie said, indicating the TARDIS.

"You can't blame him, Ben," Polly said. "You and I were both taken aback when we first saw the inside."

"Why does he need so many rooms for—and why have things that fall from the ceiling and trap ye in corners?" Jamie wondered. "Is he hiding something?"

"If he is, I'm sure he's got a very good reason for it," Polly said. "Half the time, I wonder why the Doctor does the things he does. He's a brilliant man, even if he is a little…" She paused, searching for the right word.

"Barmy?" Ben offered, jokingly.

Polly gave him a look.

"Eccentric is the word I'm looking for," she said to Jamie.

The Scot blinked.

"Aye," he said, pretending to understand what the word meant.

Polly wasn't fooled, but before she could give him an impromptu vocabulary lesson, a loud crackling and sparking emitted from the interior of the TARDIS, followed by a frantic yell.

"Doctor!?" Polly exclaimed.

The Gallifreyan emerge from the TARDIS, eyes wide with shock. Wisps of smoke issued from his now-singed clothes.

Jamie was the first one to run to the Doctor's side.

"Are ye hurt?"

"I'm… I'm quite alright," the Doctor assured him, though he still seemed a bit stunned.

"What happened in there?" Ben asked, as Polly stopped to make sure that the Time Lord truly was uninjured.

"The TARDIS didn't seem to accept the modifications I tried to make to the navigation systems. It is with regret that I must inform you that our stay on this planet shall have to be an extended one."

"Charming," Ben murmured.

"Oh, it's not as bad as all that, surely," Polly said. "I mean, it is quite like Earth here. And the moors are lovely—and they might help with Jamie's homesickness—"

She was cut off by a strange, roaring shriek echoing from across the moor. The Scot, suddenly no longer homesick or keen to explore, clutched at the Doctor's arm in fear.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I do believe that there are some questions better left unanswered," the Doctor replied. "And I also think it would be better to continue this discussion from the safety of the TARDIS."

This time, no one questioned the decision.

* * *

The third time Jamie wandered off was later that same day. The Doctor was still working on the navigational instruments, every now and then muttering in his own tongue. With his permission, Polly showed Jamie the TARDIS's library. Jamie went along with her (as did Ben, who had nothing better to do), but the Scot was too embarrassed to admit that he couldn't read; he had been raised to work on farming and piping, and an education had not been attainable for multiple reasons.

After Polly and Ben had found the books that they were looking for, Jamie bluffed them into thinking that he would stay and browse for a while. Once they had left, however, the Scot cast a scornful look at the numerous volumes of books, seemingly taunting him, as though they knew of the joys they held—and that they were joys he could never have.

He wandered past the shelves, blinking as one of them held not books, but bottles with a purple substance in them. Puzzled as to why the bottles were there, he continued until he found a smaller book. As he took it into his hands, he realized that it wasn't a book—the material used to bind it was not as strong. It was an old magazine, but, of course, Jamie would not have known that.

Some of the letters were vaguely familiar, though the words themselves made no sense. He couldn't even read the large, glossy words on the cover.

Jamie wasn't normally an emotional person, but he glared at the bound mass of pages and then threw it across the room to vent his frustrations.

He hadn't heard the approaching footsteps until after he had launched the volume; the Doctor, who had been walking down the aisle between the bookshelves nearby, let out a startled yell as the magazine sailed by, inches from his face. After ducking behind one of the shelves to make sure there were no projectiles, he peeked out from around the shelf to see who had thrown it. He gave a sigh as he found his answer.

"Really, Jamie, I was under the impression that you'd moved on from trying to kill me…" he teased. "Though I suppose a magazine to the head is a little less fatal than a knife to the throat. Was this you just trying launch a mutiny? Ben is the sailor; you should've asked him for help…"

"I'm sorry," Jamie mumbled—for the second time in as many days. "I di'n hear ye coming in."

"Solitary Magazine Throwing is a popular sport, then? I shall have to mention that the next time I attend the Olympics…" He picked up the magazine. "Ah, the 1882 edition of the _Strand_. You'll quite enjoy this; there's an ex-Army surgeon who wrote…" The Doctor trailed off as Jamie averted his gaze, and it didn't take long for the Gallifreyan to put two and two together. "Yes, well… I'm sure you have plenty of important things to worry about than those tales."

The Doctor placed the magazine back on one of the shelves and now started searching through the shelves. Jamie silently observed this, debating on whether or not to say what was on his mind.

"You didn't happen to see a spanner lying around, did you?" the Doctor asked.

"Sorry?"

"The navigation settings have decided to be difficult, and I think I might have left the spanner here the last time I had to do repair work."

"Why—?"

"Why did I bring the spanner into the library in the first place?" the Doctor finished for him. "Yes, there's a very good explanation for that. …Unfortunately, I don't remember what it is at the moment."

Jamie chuckled in spite of himself.

"I think this room would be a nice place to store things," he agreed. "Aye, I know what I would do with it. Ye could hide all sorts of things in and among these shelves—gold, silver, money… Nobody would e'er search here. And ye could have a hoard of weapons stored here."

"There already is."

Jamie looked around in confusion, not having seen a single one.

"It's not what you're thinking, Jamie; books themselves are the greatest of weapons. And just like any weapon, one needs to be trained in their use," the Doctor said, glancing back at the Scot. "You weren't fortunate enough to receive that training, were you?"

Jamie's face flushed, and he shook his head.

"I surmised as much," the Gallifreyan sighed. "However, you'll be pleased to know that it's never too late to receive that training."

Jamie looked to the Doctor questioningly.

"Once I've gotten the navigation system repaired, we can discuss your lessons," the Doctor said.

"Ye'd do that?"

"Why would I not? If you're going to be a part of the crew here on the TARDIS, I expect you to be well-armed. …Aha, and here is the spanner!"

After recovering the missing tool, the Doctor left to resume work on the navigation system, and Jamie resumed wandering the library.

He was in a much better mood now as the glanced at all of the material on the shelves. And that was when he noticed something else:

He didn't feel homesick anymore.

* * *

The fourth time Jamie wandered off was when they finally made it to Casablanca. Polly was simply enamored with the scenery and the people, constantly taking pictures of everything. Jamie was more intrigued by Polly's camera, though his attempt to use it ended with him holding it the wrong way around—and nearly blinding himself with the flash.

At Polly's request, the four had dinner in an establishment not unlike Rick's bar from the movie. Jamie couldn't appreciate the significance, though the place did capture his interest. Catching snatches of conversations in various languages all around them and realizing that there was little for him to do until their food arrived, Jamie quietly got up from the table while the other three were in deep conversation about the movie.

Silently, he wandered around, observing the people as they ate and conversed. Despite his 18th-century attire, Jamie was all but invisible to them as they all seemed to be in the own little worlds.

Eventually, however, one of them finally noticed him.

"You, there! Boy!"

Jamie blinked, looking at the speaker. A man was sitting with two other men at one of the back tables, and he beckoned Jamie to approach. Baffled, Jamie pointed to himself, as though asking if they truly wanted to speak to him.

"Yes, you!"

Jamie hesitated, but then approached the table. He was slightly intimidated, but he refused to show it.

"You look like you need something to do, Boy," the man said, as he shuffled the cards. "Have you ever played poker before?"

Jamie shook his head; he hadn't even heard of it before, as the game was after his time.

"Well, sit down, Boy—we'll show you."

Jamie noticed that the other two men were silently laughing at him. The Scot remained tight-lipped, but sat down at the table, silently casting a glare at the other men.

"I'll explain the rules in a minute," the first man said. "But, first… what have you got to ante up?"

Jamie blinked.

"Ante?"

"Well, just for formality's sake—some money, or a personal item… You'll get it right back, don't worry."

Beginning to understand that these men were gamblers, Jamie placed his knife on the table.

"That's all?"

"Aye," Jamie said, and he gave an innocent look. "If I'll be getting it back, it shouldn't matter, should it?"

The men exchanged glances.

"Right," the first man said.

Back at the other table, the Doctor, Ben, and Polly had grown concerned when Jamie had not returned.

"Ben, you look over that way," the Doctor said. "Polly and I will look over here."

"How much trouble do you think Jamie can get into in a restaurant?" Ben asked. He paused. "On second thoughts, never mind…"

The Doctor sighed as Ben vanished among the crowd.

"I guess Jamie felt a bit left out," he said. "I should be more mindful of the fact that there are some conversations he can't be a part of…"

"I'm afraid it's my fault, Doctor," Polly said, as she and the Doctor began to look for him.

"I wasn't serious when I told you to keep an eye on him, you know," the Doctor replied.

"Well, it was my idea to bring him along, wasn't it?" she asked. "I didn't realize it might be too much for someone from his time. And I certainly didn't mean for him to be so much trouble."

"He's no trouble at all," the Doctor insisted. "There may be things he needs to learn, but I'm more than willing to teach him."

Polly smiled; hearing the Doctor talk made her realize that if she hadn't suggested bringing Jamie along, he probably would've thought of it in the end himself.

But her smile faded as neither she nor the Doctor succeeded in finding Jamie. It was, therefore, to their relief that Ben soon arrived with the Scot in tow.

"Oh, thank goodness!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Where have you been, Jamie?" Polly asked.

"I was playing cards with some lads in the back," the Highlander said.

"Lads?" Ben scoffed. "Those were card sharks—playing poker."

"Oh, _Jamie_…" the Doctor said, wincing. "Well, you seem to have kept the clothes on your back, at any rate. How much did you lose?"

The Scot held up two fistfuls of money, a grin forming on his face as Polly and the Doctor stared.

"I won," he said, proudly.

"Well…" the Doctor said, bemused as he realized the Scot had just won at a game that hadn't even been invented in his time. "That's… that's very good, Jamie. But I would prefer it if you didn't make a habit out of this, either."

"He's a fast learner," Ben admitted, sounding slightly put out. "Those blokes didn't believe that he'd never played before."

"Well, that's good to know, isn't it?" the Doctor asked, glancing back at Jamie. If the Scot could learn poker well enough to outwit card sharks, then there was no reason why he couldn't learn how to read.

Polly, however, was taking note of Ben's tone of voice.

"Ben, what's the matter?"

The sailor gave her a look, and then turned out his empty pockets before giving the Scot a cold look.

"Cleaned me out, he did…"

Between Jamie's smug look and Polly's onset of the giggles, the Doctor quickly turned his attention to a menu lying on a nearby table, hoping that it wasn't too obvious that he was shaking from suppressed laughter.

* * *

The team's holiday in Casablanca, poker mishap aside, had proven to be the perfect icebreaker for all of them. Jamie soon found that the others were more than willing to go out of their way to make him feel welcome, which he appreciated.

The Doctor also made good on his promise to teach Jamie how to read and write—nearly every day, he and Jamie would spend time in the TARDIS library so that the Doctor could give him his lessons. As he predicted, Jamie was a fast learner, and was far brighter than what others had given him credit for; all the Scot had needed was the right hand to guide him, and now he had found it.

Jamie's admiration for the Doctor had grown, as well; he was grateful for the tutelage the Doctor had provided, as well as for the genuine concern that the Doctor had for him. Any doubts and second thoughts that Jamie had previously harbored were gone, and the TARDIS—despite being a place that he dared not explore on his own after the shutter incident—was just as much home now as Scotland had been.

Visiting new places and times had been just as eye-opening for the Scot, as well. Every so often, though, their jaunts ended up getting them into some sort of trouble.

And it was on one such occasion that the team had arrived on a primitive planet that happened to be in the midst of a war—a war being fought with swords, arrows, and catapults. Being who he was, the Doctor had attempted to use his services as a peacemaker, with Jamie having accompanied him while Ben and Polly had waited aboard the TARDIS.

Despite the Doctor's best efforts, the deep-seeded feud between the two sides made more sense to them than the Doctor's attempts to get them to see reason. The fighting resumed, more vicious than before, and the Doctor and Jamie soon found themselves being force to sneak back to the TARDIS. The battle was all around them, and even the forest they were using to cover their escape did not provide the safety they had hoped; there were no lines drawn in this all-out war, and no safe havens—the forest, the rivers, the fields, even the towns… everywhere was a battlefield.

It was a brutal way to fight a war; even Jamie had to admit to himself that Culloden hadn't been anywhere near as bad as this.

Night had fallen upon the planet, and the battle continued by torchlight; with the forest canopy blocking the light from the stars and with no torch of his own, Jamie was running blind—and, more than once, tripped over rocks and crashed into inconveniently-located tree trunks.

"Doctor…!" he said, after tripping over a rock and taking a tree root to the face. "Haven't ye got any sort of light at all?"

It was only after receiving no answer that Jamie realized that the Doctor had somehow gotten separated from him. The Scot grumbled in annoyance as he got back to his feet. Well, the Doctor was probably en route back to the TARDIS; the logical thing to do would be to return to the TARDIS, as well, and wait for him there.

Jamie had been all set to wander off yet again and head back on his own; he was certain he was more than capable of making it back on his own. Judging by the amount of ground they had covered, they couldn't have been more than half a mile away, at the most.

The Scot looked back in the direction from which he had come; as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, it became clear that the Doctor was nowhere in sight.

Cautiously, he headed back in that direction, flinching as he heard the sounds of battle all around him.

And he very nearly cried out in sheer horror as a hand suddenly grasped his ankle. He managed not to cry out, but the shock did cause him to fall over onto his face again.

"…_Jamie_…?" a familiar voice whispered.

The Scot rolled his eyes as horror turned to annoyance.

"Is this your idea of a joke?" he quietly fumed. "This is probably the least funny…" He trailed off, wincing slightly as the Doctor's grip around his ankle tightened. "Doctor? Doctor, ye can let go now, can't ye?"

The Doctor didn't respond, nor did his grip lighten, and it was only as he waited for a reply that Jamie realized that he could hear haggard breathing; the Doctor was in pain.

"Doctor?" he asked, softly.

No answer.

Slowly, the Scot sat up, trying to focus his vision in the dark. He could just barely discern the outline of the Doctor sprawled out on the forest floor

"Doctor?" he asked again. He placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder, surprised to feel how tense the muscles were.

And then, as he moved his hand, he felt a small, wooden object sticking out from between the Doctor's shoulder blades.

He'd been hit by an arrow, and judging by the deathgrip the Doctor had on Jamie's ankle, the pain was unbearable.

The Scot exhaled after assessing the situation; the arrow had gone in at an angle to the right.

"At least it di'n go in to the left," he said, as he took hold of the arrow, aiming to remove it. "Ye'd have had to worry about it hitting your heart."

"Two," the Doctor hissed, cringing.

"What?"

"Two… hearts…"

"Ye mean there's one on each side?" Jamie asked, his eyes widening. "But that means…"

He suddenly withdrew his hand from the arrow as if it had caught fire, fearful of making the situation worse. Sensing this, the Doctor did his best to reassure his young companion.

"Not hit… but close…"

"Aye," Jamie said, but he didn't sound relieved by this at all. "I'll go get Ben and Polly; they'll help—"

"No…!"

The grip on Jamie's ankle tightened.

"But I can't move ye!" Jamie protested. "The arrow might move and hit your other heart!"

"Remove it."

The Scot looked horrified by the prospect of such an undertaking; one mistake—just one—could have irreversible consequences.

"I cannae—!"

"Jamie…"

There was a hint of a plea in the Gallifreyan's voice, and hearing it made the Scot feel as though someone had punched him in the gut.

"Let me bring Ben and Polly here," he said. "They can help ye better than I can…"

"No time…"

"Wha—?"

The Doctor gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the pain long enough to explain.

"The arrow… poisoned," he said, pausing to cringe; judging by the amount of agony he was in, it was some sort of animal venom. Unintentionally, his fingernails dug into the Scot's ankle, but the boy didn't even seem to notice. "Get rid of it now… and I can slip into a healing coma."

"But—"

"_Jamie_."

With the arrow so close to his right heart, there would be very little time before the venom damaged the tissue beyond repair—and the Doctor had no desire to undergo a regeneration again so soon after his first one.

As for Jamie, seeing his mentor in such agony was too much to bear. He grasped the arrow, forcing himself not to tremble.

"Do ye really think it's wise trusting _me_ with your life?" he asked. The reminder that he was uneducated and nowhere near as smart as Ben or Polly remained unspoken, but implied.

"Would I have asked this… if I hadn't thought it to be?" the Doctor asked.

Jamie's eyes widened for a moment, but then his gaze focused with determination. With baited breath, he gave the arrow a sharp tug, and in one pull, it was withdrawn from the Doctor's back.

The Gallifreyan sighed in relief, finally letting go of the Scot's ankle. Jamie glanced at the offending arrow in his hand and now threw it aside. He got to his feet again, knowing that he had to get Ben and Polly to help him get the Doctor back to the TARDIS. He knew it wouldn't take long, and it seemed like the best idea.

But as he glanced back at the Doctor, seeing that he was still in pain, Jamie found it impossible to just leave him there.

He knelt beside him once more, taking the Doctor's handkerchief from his pocket and to place it over the wound to stop the bleeding—ironically, it had been the Doctor who had taught him that stopping the bleeding was much better practice than allowing the wound to bleed out.

"You did very well, Jamie…" the Doctor mumbled. He was on the verge of slipping into the healing coma he had previously mentioned.

"How long will ye be asleep for?" he asked

"An hour… maybe two, actually, given how it feels… But, Jamie…?"

"Aye?"

"Don't go wandering off… this time."

"I won't leave ye; I promise," the Scot vowed.

"No… I meant… the battle's still…" The words got lost; the Doctor mumbled something in his native tongue before his eyes shut as he slipped into the healing coma.

And Jamie could only sit there, stunned; after coming so close to death, the Doctor's first concern was making sure that Jamie didn't get hit with an arrow, as well?

Polly's words from the other day returned, unbidden, to his mind.

"_I think the Doctor's taken a liking to you; he wouldn't want you to leave, either_."

The Scot's lips twitched into a wan smile.

He wouldn't leave. And he silently promised that even if he did end up wandering off at a later time, he would always take the path back to the TARDIS—the path home.


End file.
